


Somewhere Only We Know

by yukiscorpio



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 04:44:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12857010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiscorpio/pseuds/yukiscorpio
Summary: Post-game. If there is one way he might be able to get Noctis back, then he is going to try.





	Somewhere Only We Know

**Author's Note:**

> I hope it's not too confusing. ._.

He sees Noctis. The mud on his kneeguard, the blood spatter on his clothes. The pores of his skin, the beard that he would not have been able to grow before. The ten years which he has not lived, yet evident in his soul.

Do souls have faces, then? Because even in his most vivid dreams, his mind has never been able to conjure up such details, crystal sharp.

It only occurs to him, after a moment, that _he sees Noctis_. The late king is beside him, as are his comrades, his friends, in this dimension. He thinks he knows where this is — the place Noctis has spent the last decade in deep reflection in order to be able to wield the great power of his ancestors. There are records of it, tomes and carvings which Talcott has so patiently read out. This battle, in a sense, is a ritual, at the end of which...

Concentrate. This is no time to think about anything but the battle before him.

Gentiana has alluded to what is required of him here: lend the Chosen One his power. What his meagre strength could do in such a battle, he does not know, but he is a follower of rules, of instructions, and he does not think Gentiana would lead him astray.

The Oracle joins them, nullifies whatever attack Ardyn has prepared, and Noctis strikes.

When he lost his eyes, Noctis was the last thing he saw. It was a decision he has never regretted. The best decision he has ever made, even. And now, to be granted such a sight, to bear witness to such magnificence as the collective power of Lucian kings giving Ardyn his deliverance, he thinks again that his loss is worth it.

Then he turns, to look at Noctis. Because he would still rather his last vision to be of Noctis.

Yes, his loss is worth everything. But how about Noctis's sacrifice? Born only to be killed for the greater good, for a... a _mess_ that was not his fault to begin with. And if the literature is correct, to not be allowed eternal rest, because sacrificing his life is not enough.

This is not. Bloody. Fair.

As soon as Ardyn vanishes, the light begins to fade, and he feels the pull. They must go, now, back to the real world where the dawn awaits.

_No._

"You can't! Let go, you've got to let go!"

At Noctis's words, he clings on harder, his grasp on Noctis's arm so tight it would be painful in the real world.

"I have made a promise to always stand by you!"

Noctis's expression changes, the alarm on his face softened by a smile. "I'll be alright. Don't worry about me."

"Noct!"

"Please. You gotta go."

"You know I won't."

He hears Prompto and Gladio's voices, shouting for him. He doesn't begrudge them for leaving; their part in this play, as written by the gods, is finally over. It is time to take a bow. But he can't. Not if Noctis is left behind.

Gentiana's voice rings in his head. _The path you choose is one we cannot guide. Be forewarned: time is not as you understand henceforth._

"I know," he replies, not knowing if Gentiana can hear him.

They are fading. It's too late for him to go now. He smiles at Noctis, who shakes his head and chuckles in defeat.

"At the next place..."

"Don't go anywhere; I will find you."

"Okay."

Then, before he can ask Noctis why he is suddenly laughing as if he has just recalled a fond memory, everything vanishes.

*****

Letting intuition guide him, he steps through the woods.

It has been a long journey. At the start, he found himself at the Citadel, so that was where he began his search. The great hall, in which hangs a beautiful painting of Noctis's parents. The parking lot, where the Regalia usually resides. His office, which is one of Noctis's favourite rooms because the sofa is exactly where the afternoon sun would hit, the perfect place for a nap.

Noctis is not in the Citadel, he realises. If even the Regalia sits empty, then there is only one place where Noctis could be at.

There are people on the streets, cars on the road, but they behave as if he does not exist. No, the truth is they don't exist. This is Noctis's world, constructed from what he remembers. The people are here to make things look right — the very busy crossing next to the subway station, the ever-present queue outside the dessert parlour, they are extras, created to make the stage look real.

A stage that is beginning to crumble. When he squints, he sees the scenery disintegrate. Like old photographs taped to a window, colours are fading, slowly, slowly. Edges blur. Sounds deaden.

There is no time to be marvelled by the fact that he can see.

If his memory serves — and the longer he spends here, the more unsure he becomes — the walk from the Citadel to the park should take twenty minutes. But the path stretches and distorts. It has become a journey that takes days, weeks, months. He isn't quite sure how long he has been walking for.

He fears that he won't make it in time. If the world disappears, if Noctis forgets everything, before he finds him, then...

He pushes on.

Stepping across the boundary, into the city park, and colours return with a vibrancy he has forgotten could exist.

When he turns and casts his gaze into the distance, the Crown City is no longer there. Perhaps, like the late king pulling back the Wall to conserve strength and only protect Insomnia instead of all of Lucis, Noctis has to make a similar choice or risk losing it all.

There is no one here, no imagined crowds to populate the space; they are not necessary. Going off the footpath, he walks through the woods, a route that he has not seen anyone use except for himself and Noctis. There is a tiny little area, between the tree line and the edge of the lake, enough for two people to sit and remain hidden from other park goers, shrouded by trees.

He keeps going. The crush of fresh grass under his feet, the sounds of rustling leaves, the warmth of the sun on his skin, all lifelike, and all experiences he has nearly forgotten after a decade of darkness, now brought back to him by Noctis.

At the lake, there is someone dressed in simple black t-shirt and knee shorts, casting a line into the water.

He approaches quietly, like he how has always been told to approach an angler at work. Slowly the man lifts his gaze from the water.

The planes of Noctis's face are even sharper than before, his resemblance to his father unmistakable. His hair is more silver than black now. Trimmed and brushed, it is no longer the overly long mess he sported at the final battle. And despite his casual clothing, he is well-groomed, as if he is expecting a visitor.

"Look at you. Still wearing shorts at your age."

He stands beside Noctis, who takes a hand off the fishing rod to study it, taking in the prominent knuckles, the wrinkles, the colourations. Then their eyes meet on the water's surface — their younger selves gaze back at them, the faces of children, the faces of young men, shifting as the water ripples.

"I'd tell you to hush, but it doesn't matter I guess," Noctis says. His voice, tinged with age, trembles from both effort and disuse. "I've not had a nibble all day."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Anyway, hi. You're..."

Noctis has forgotten.

He breathes out. Who is he, indeed. Who is he to Noctis? "A friend," he supposes, and it's not a wrong answer. A safe answer, but not wrong.

Noctis searches his face. "Like, a boyfriend?"

He throat tightens. "What makes you think that?"

"Just a feeling. Sorry. You seem familiar."

"Don't apologise. We... we have not been in a relationship as such. Life rather got in the way."

Noctis frowns a little. "So we like each other?" he asks, hesitates, and adds, "we liked each other?"

"I can't speak for you. And you can't like someone you don't remember, can you now, Noct?"

The wry look that surfaces is familiar. "Don't be so sure; I know how I feel." Noctis jabs a thumb at his own chest. "'Noct'. That my name?"

He catches himself smiling — Noctis likes him, maybe. Perhaps. It is possible. This is the closest Noctis has ever come to saying such a thing. "Given to you by your mother, I believe."

"Noct," Noctis says again, as if to feel the word on his tongue, to test if it truly feels familiar. "Noctis."

"Yes. Your name is Noctis. Your friends call you Noct."

"Friends like you."

He nods. He doesn't know what to say, how to jolt Noctis's memory. If Noctis cannot remember who he is, then he cannot return, and eventually even this sanctuary will disappear — Noctis will disappear.

He sits down, and motions for Noctis to join him. He takes off his shoes and socks, rolls up the hem of his trousers, and dips his feet into the water.

"Do you remember..." He searches his own memories, and finds something that makes him wonder if parallels can be drawn, if maybe this is meant to happen. "Do you remember Carbuncle?"

Noctis doesn't respond, but gives a look that says "carry on."

"When you were little, you were attacked by a daemon, and your soul was locked away by its power. After you found your way out, you told your father and me that a little while fox showed you how to escape. And only then did your father explain to you about your spiritual guardian, and you learned that his name is Carbuncle."

After a long moment, Noctis reels his line in, lifts the lure out of the water. A little figurine hangs on the end of the line.

"Carbuncle," Noctis whispers, and takes it in his hands, cradles it like it is his most beloved treasure.

"Have you been using it as a fishing lure all this time?"

"No! It was a normal... I just suddenly know it's here."

"Good. I dread to think you've been dunking your guardian spirit repeatedly into the water for the sake of catching fish!"

"As if I would do that with a gift from my dad!" Noctis huffs, then his mouth falls open. He brings the figurine to his chest, clutching it tightly, gasps. "Dad..."

"His Majesty was with you in the final battle. Do you remember?"

"I... yeah." Unexpectedly, Noctis smiles. "He's in a better place now. Literally, I know he is, I'm not just saying it. But god, I miss him. He died for me. For everyone."

"As did you."

"I... did I?" Noctis looks at him with reddened eyes. "Was it... did I help?"

"You saved us all, Noct." He resists the urge to put a hand on Noctis's cheek. "Your job is finally done, you don't need to worry about that anymore. But we would love for you to return to us."

"How? Is Carbuncle here?"

He shakes his head. This is a human dream, into which only humans may enter and from which only humans may leave. "With your own strength."

Noctis cracks a laugh. "Sounds like something you'd say," he points out, then stops himself, stares at his visitor, draws a breath through his mouth. "I do know you."

A nudge of the glasses. "I should hope so."

"Well yeah, if you are my boyfriend."

"As I've said, I'm not." It still feels awkward to talk about this although it really shouldn't. A lifetime of careful restraint is hard to unlearn, perhaps. "Do you remember Lady Lunafreya?"

Brows drawn, Noctis doesn't say anything.

"You first met her when you were eight, at her home in Tenebrae. Since then—"

"Luna. Of course I remember Luna," Noctis murmurs, eyes staring out across the water, his face expressionless. "She died in a lot of pain, like Dad."

He doesn't know what to say to that.

"But it's okay now. Hey, don't pull that face." Noctis nudges him. "They're both good now. Trust me."

"Really?"

"Yep."

Well. This is all going rather wrong. "My apologies; you shouldn't have to comfort me."

"I know things you don't," Noctis shrugs. "But I suppose you know a lot of things I've forgotten. C'mon, name drop some more."

"How about Prompto and Gladio?"

It only takes a moment for recognition to spark in Noctis's eyes. "The guys. Are they okay?"

"I should think so. Though there is a lot of work to do now."

"And they could do with my help, is what you're saying."

"Moral support, perhaps. I think you have earned yourself a rather long break."

"Well!" Noctis declares, getting up. "If I don't have to do any of the actual work, I'm all for going back."

"Sounds just like you." He stands too, and doesn't bother with his shoes again. They are ready to go.

But then Noctis looks around, and freezes.

"It's been so long, I don't remember how I got here," says Noctis, his voice almost a whisper. "When it's light, I fish. When it gets dark, I look at the stars. This place is special to me. When I was younger I..." he turns to his visitor. "I think I'm waiting for someone. Is that you?"

"We came here when you wanted to be away from the Citadel."

"And... we got caught sometimes."

"Yes, but we kept coming back regardless. It was something you needed, other people might not have understood but I could hardly deny you."

Noctis steps closer. "You took the flak every time they caught us."

"It's..." he tips his head, "part of the job."

"No. It's what friends are for." Noctis reaches out. "You've reminded me of everyone else, but haven't even told me who you are. Why?"

Why, indeed. "I'm not good at talking about myself."

He feels a hand rest on his cheek. It's warm. It's everything he has ever wanted.

"You're..." Something cracks. The air shakes. "Why can't I..."

"It's all right—"

"It's not!"

"What I mean is, I understand." He looks down, at their feet. They had spent so much time not thinking too hard, about what was ahead of them, about each other. They couldn't have carried on, otherwise. "Noct, it doesn't—"

"Ignis."

He lifts his eyes, and sees tears fall from Noctis's.

The sky is suddenly dark. When Ignis tilts his face up, endless stars look down upon them, a sight he has witnessed many times, and still an experience close to his heart.

"Ignis," Noctis says again, and he's smiling now, through his tears. "What are you doing here?"

Because the awaiting dawn, as well as the starry night, are meaningless without Noctis. "A promise is a promise."

Oh, hell. Even now, he still cannot speak from his heart. It's fine. All in good time.

"There's just no end to your crazy, is there."

Ignis tries to sound exasperated, but the fact that he is wiping the tears from Noctis's face probably diminishes the impact. "Once you're done insulting me, we should go."

"Yeah yeah," Noctis drawls, and takes Ignis's hand. "So what do we do?"

Ignis steers them to face the lake. "We die."

"Seriously? How many times have I got to die?"

"I don't decide these things, Noct."

"Well, if we gotta die, we gotta... hey." Noctis's hand tightens. "But how about your eyes? Once we get back..."

Ah. "Physical limitations are what they are, I think."

The answer cannot be a surprise, but Noctis still squeezes his eye shut briefly, as if in pain, before looking up at Ignis again.

"Before you make an absurd suggestion: no, not like this. There is still much life for you to live. And my eyes are hardly an inconvenience anymore," says Ignis, before Noctis can even make a sound. "We are not staying here."

Noctis swallows the words in his throat, and tries again. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely certain."

"Well, then." They edge nearer to the water. "I hope this is the last time I die."

"Second to last. The next time, it will be the end of your natural life."

"You could stop correcting me just for once." Noctis snickers, and Ignis recalls something, a question he has not had the chance to ask. Ah, maybe next time. "On three then — three!"

They jump.

*****

He sees Noctis. The mud on his kneeguard, the blood spatter on his clothes. The pores of his skin, the beard that he would not have been able to grow before.

Ignis rolls onto his side, then tries to sit up. Prompto and Gladio come over right away to help him.

Lying right beside him on the tiled floor of the Citadel's audience chamber, Noctis is smiling even before he opens his eyes.

It only occurs to Ignis, after a moment, that _he sees Noctis_.

Just his imagination, surely? He plucks off his visor, blinks. Noctis pushes himself up on an elbow.

"Your eyes..."

"Yes, it appears so."

Another push, and Noctis sits up too. "I'll save that question for later. Got a much more important thing to ask: boyfriends?"

Ignis has barely comprehended the question before there are arms around him, pulling, and he tumbles into Noctis, both of them back down on the floor again.

Oh, god. "I, ah..." Ignis hears his friends gasping. His face heats up. "Are we really discussing this right now?"

"C'mon." Noctis mock huffs. "Third time already. No more dodging! And you," his hold tightens, "are not going anywhere until you say yes..."

All of a sudden, he bursts into laughter, and Ignis remembers the question he has not had the chance to ask the last two times they died.

"What exactly is so funny, Noct?"

"Just..." Noctis shifts so that they can be face to face, and smiles, the smile that goes right up to his eyes, the smile Ignis has always loved. "You told me not to go anywhere."

And Noctis took that to heart, waiting in that park until Ignis arrived. "And?"

"That's what you used to say when we were kids. 'If you get lost, don't be scared, just stay where you are and I'll find you."

Ah, the memories. "And I wasn't wrong."

"You never are." Noctis snorts. "But this time, _you_ are not going anywhere."

Ignis buries his face in the crook of Noctis's neck, inhales. There's blood, there's sweat, there's dirt, and all of that is wonderful, because they are together and they are alive.

This is where he belongs.

"I wouldn't dream of it."


End file.
